


Wow, You're An Asshole

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, don't blame me, pretty much everyone gets namedropped at some point - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6945064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you do if your asshole history partner just gave you a fucking cranky BJ in a janitor's closet and you kinda really want him to do it again, but this is already the fourth time it's happened, and you both swore it would never happen again?" you ask bluntly.</p><p>Dave's expression remains stoic for a moment. Then it splits into a wide grin. "Dude."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You did not come to this dumbass school for getting off with some dickwad from your history class in a musty janitors' closet. But you guess you'll take it.

His name is Eridan Ampora, and he's a total asshole. He had to partner with you for some shitty project you had to do about the American Revolution, and he snarked at you for the whole damn thing. He did his part, but that was it. He was no other help to you. He was fucking _annoying,_ man.

He always talks down to everyone he meets, like he's way better than they are, and that they should know their place. He's a total hipster and actually wears an honest-to-gog _scarf._

The awfulness should be self-explanatory on that one.

He's never not wearing ninety thousand rings on his fingers, as if he's showing off that his parents have money and that he's a spoiled brat. And, _and,_ he has a _cape._

A _cape._

It is fucking _purple._

He's super awful at math, and can't fucking shut up. Ever. He always makes fun of your lisp, even though he stutters on his "w"s, and he tries to sing, even though he can't carry a tune to save his own life. He cares way too much about his hair and wears colored contacts to be cool and edgy.

He also has a fantastic ass.

Oops.

And, he's currently unbuttoning your jeans. It's dark in here, but you can still see the slick wetness of his lips as his tongue darts out of his mouth. It's kind of giving you a totally sick hard-on right now, and he knows it. He flashes you an evil fucking grin that makes you want to hit him. "Looks like _some_ one hasn't gotten laid in a while."

You card your fingers through his hair, completely ruining it, and ignore his whiny protests. "It isn't gonna suck itself, asshat."

He sighs this big, over-exaggerated sigh, like he doesn't want this as bad as you. Which is a fucking lie. He was the one who pulled you in here in the first place.

You can't say you minded, but who's following casualties? No one.

He draws your cock out of your underwear. His hand is warm and pretty fucking soft, which is pretty unexpected, to be honest. But you don't have time to contemplate that, because this motherfucker. Just gasped. At your dick.

You've always been relatively endowed in terms of cock size. But no one you've been with has ever fucking been suprised at it. You're correct. It's a penis. No one expected otherwise.

But that's definitely a boost to the self-esteem.

"Jesus Christ," he says. Holy shit, that's awe in his voice. "How the fuck 'm I even supposed ta _fit_ it, you sonofa--"

"Try your best. Maybe if you're good, you can have a gold star sticker afterwards," you say, smirky as all hell. Heh. He thinks your dick is big.

...That could be because his dick is small. But until you see his, you'll choose to believe the former.

And then you stop believing entirely, because his hand is moving now and he's jerking you off holy _shit_ his hand feels good. It's way better than your own.

You must make a noise, because he grins evilly up at you, and you can see it this time because his fucking teeth. Whiter than a model's in a toothpaste commercial. You immediately hate him that much more. "Enjoyin' yourself, are you?"

"I mean. Duh," you say feebly, motioning vaguely towards your dick. And _woah._ He's moving his head towards it, and then he licks the tip.

Your hands seize in his hair as warm, wet heat closes around the head of your cock. He makes an agitated noise, and pops off. "Don't. Mess with. My hair."

Which, of course, makes you want to ruin it even more.

So! You take your hands and pull his hair back sharply. "You were the one who suggested this, last I thought."

"You don't have ta be so smug about it, Sol," he says, pouting.

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's Sollux. Soll. Ux. Not 'Sol'," you say. _Jesus Christ,_ it rubs you the wrong way when he does that.

"I'm the one suckin' you off, asshole," he replies angrily, reaching a hand around your waist and cupping your ass before taking you into his mouth again.

And woah.

"Fuck yeah," you say, smiling and bracing a hand on one of the shelves behind you, and winding the other into his hair. He makes an offended noise around you, but doesn't protest otherwise.

The flat of his tongue rubs a constant pressure on the underside of cock as he bobs his head. It feels really nice, and it so fucking helps that he blinks up at you with these big purple eyes. Those've gotta be fakes. No way those are real.

"Those're contacts, huh?" you say, stroking his hair. Fuck, it's soft. You hate it.

He hums a little and shakes his head, which feels weird. But you're more than okay with that.

"You've got crazy fuckin' eyes, man," you breathe, leaning your head back against the shelf. _"Fuck, just like that..."_

He wraps his fist around you and jerks you off again, standing slowly. His eyes line with yours, and you try to stifle a groan. Doesn't really work. He licks his lips, and you find your hand coming down out of his hair and going towards his crotch.

 _"Shit,"_ he hisses, as your hand meets its target. You rub him over his too-goddamn-tight skinny jeans, and he moans. It's pitched higher than you'd expect, but it goes straight to your dick. You fucking hate that. You hate it. You hate how he can do anything, and it makes you want to fuck him until he can't walk.

"You moan like a bitch," you say, and bite savagely at his neck. He curses, and his hand speeds up. You unbutton his jeans with one hand as you suck and bite at his pulse point. And no, his dick isn't small at all. You'd be pleased with yourself, but it's kinda hard to focus right now.

He groans something that sounds suspiciously like your name, and puts his other hand on your neck, pulling you closer. You growl, because _Jesus Christ_ this kid knows what he's doing, with his stupid skinny jeans and his fucking scarf that he actually _likes;_ what the fuck is _with_ that. He's _trying_ to fucking seduce you, the asshole.

He kisses you then, biting your lip and fucking into your hand. And you kiss back, because you _want._ You _want_ him, and you _hate_ him.

"F-fuck, Solllll..." he stutters out as you lick at a bruise you made on his jaw. Heh. Poor kid's gonna get stared at.

You chuckle, "You close?"

"Sh-sh-shu _\--uhhh--_ shut up!" he groans.

You are too; _fuck,_ you're so close, but he doesn't have to know that.

"Sol, Solllll, gonna co-- _mmm!"_ he breathes out, and come he does, eyes wide and lips red and bitten. He goes loose-limbed against you, panting.

And then he looks up at you in a way that makes your hand stiffen and sends you over the edge. You can't even explain it. There's something in his eyes that wasn't there before. You go limp against the shelf behind you, cursing and squeezing your eyes shut.

As the stars bursting behind your eyelids fade, and you're all tucked away, you look at each other for a moment, both disheveled and sweaty. You can't see very well, what with it being a combination of dark as shit and the fact that your eyes are not the greatest.

"So," you finally say.

He ignores you, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and checking his reflection. He makes a face at you when he sees the bruise on his jaw, and says haughtily, "How'm I supposed ta cover this up?"

"It's small," you say back, irritated. "And you weren't complaining when I was giving it to you, were you? No. You weren't."

He goes beet red and opens his mouth, trying to think of something to say. You can practically see the cogs and gears in his head working. He closes his mouth, then goes back to finger-combing his hair back into place.

And damn if you aren't proud.

Finally, he puts his phone away. "This can't and won't happen again," he sniffs, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Agreed."


	2. Chapter 2

"So," your friend Karkat says, tapping his fingers on the lunch table. "Where the dickshitting _fuck_ were you?"

You plop down onto the chair across from him. "Gross, KK."

"My question remains unanswered."

"Having fun," you reply nonchalantly, smiling at the memory.

"Do I even _wanna_ know," he says, narrowing his eyes, "or will I throw up if you tell me?"

"Probably the latter," you respond, grinning nastily at him. "Just so you know, I _totally_ fucking got laid."

He wrinkles his nose. "Jesus Christ. Already?"

"Yeah," you reply, resting your chin on your hand. "You?"

"I mean, I got invited to a threesome with Stridork and Egnerd in third period," he says, taking a hugeass bite of his sandwich.

You gape at him as he continues. "I haid maybe, becauth even if they're my frens" --he swallowed his bite-- "they're still cute. Plus, they don't like me like that; they just think I'm hot; and I literally can't catch feelings. So, that's a thing that may or may not be happening at some point."

"Holy shit, dude. Holy _shit,"_ you say, still absolutely fucking astonished. "I'm not totally sure if that's fap material or not--hey, KK, there he is!"

"Wha?" Karkat says, around another huge bite of ham sandwich.

"The guy I got off with. He totally jacked me, man; it was great--There, see? Scarf guy, right there."

Karkat looks at him, chewing, then turns back to you. "Oh yeah, I know that a'hole. But--"

"Great ass, right? Gives head like nobody's business," you say. "He's such a fucking tool though. I mean, seriously--"

"--a fucking scarf! Are you kidding me," Karkat snickers, tearing open a bag of chips. "What a snobby fuck."

"Truer words never spoken," a familiar voice says. Dave Strider throws himself into a chair next to Karkat, and his boyfriend John sits on his lap, giggling.

Dave is in your history class. You're good friends, and John is a sweetie. You have a suspicion about who tops, though. Hint: It's not Dave.

"Indeed," you say in a pompous voice. Which reminds you. "Oh, shit, have you guys ever heard this asshole _talk?_ He even _sounds_ fuckin' rich. Like, literally--" You cross your arms over your chest and make the high-and-mightiest face you can muster. "'Sol'--he calls me Sol, by the way; fuckin' annoying--'I'd appreciate if you fucked off and stayed on your own side a the project. But if wuh-we don't get an 'A' because a you, I'll be the laughinstock a the family.'"

John laughs delightedly, as Dave grins at you. "Spot on, dude."

Karkat grimaces good-naturedly. "Goddamn, I wanted to punch you. I wanted to throw myself across the table and throttle you until you shut up; Jesus."

"I've noticed he has that affect on people," remarks John, tracing the collar of Dave's shirt with his finger.

"He does," Karkat says, frowning. "What a fucking dickstain."

"He made it sound like this was Mulan. Like, 'I'll be the laughinstock a the family'? What does this guy think he is, an heiress or some shit?" Dave asked.

"Dude, you never know," John offers. He draws himself up to his full hight, still sitting on Dave's knee, and says haughtily, in the most annoying fucking voice, "He could be the one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-first person in line for the throne of Assholandia."

_"Pfff."_

"So you better treat him like royalty, _Sol,"_ John snickers. You reach over and pap him sharply on the face. "Ow! That was my nose, you dick!" he laughs. He turns to Dave. "Kiss it better?" he offers, waggling his eyebrows.

Dave flicks his ear, and places a wet smooch on the tip of his nose. John paws at it, wincing. "Dave, gross."

"You weren't complaining when I did the same thing to another part of your body," Dave sings.

 _"Dave!"_ John says, horrified.

"You weren't, though."

_"Shhh!"_

"Bleah," Karkat shudders, making you snicker. Dave smiles wider.

Suddenly, the bell rings. The scraping of chairs and the hum of mindless laughter and chatter fills the air. You curse, palming your pockets for your schedule, then tearing your bag off and sifting through it. "Fuck, I think I have history next! _God,_ I'm gonna need to talk to that asshole again..."

"Jesus Christ, Sollux; he looks wrecked as fuck," Dave says, raising his eyebrows at Eridan. "I just noticed. That bruise is fuckin' prominent, dude. And he looks, like, satisfied? Oh wow, that smile is terrifying."

"Hah, I bet it is. But seriously, can you look at your schedule for me? What class is next?"

John kisses Dave's neck and takes the schedule out of his back pocket. Dave grins and ruffles his hair. "Fuckin' dork...Op, will someone give the man a prize; we do indeed have history."

"Dammit. Just my fuckin' luck."

John giggles and hops off of Dave's lap. "See you in P.E., _Sol._ Don't the Eridans bite."

"Oh, fuck off," you say cheerily, flipping him the bird and nudging Karkat with your elbow. "Hurry up, KK, you're gonna be late to whatever."

He makes an offended noise  at you around a mouthful of food.

"We're leaving without you," Dave says, eying the mob of students streaming towards the lunchroom doors.

"Goddamn fuckin' di'hloyal a'holes," Karkat mutters (still chewing), slam-dunking his lunch bag into the trash and jogging over towards you.

***

"Okay, no; this is me respectfully disagreeing with you," Dave protests, his head in John's lap."I would look so bad in a skirt; are you kidding me?"

"Well, this is me respectfully disagreeing with _you,_ because that needs to be a thing that happens at some point," John says idly, stroking Dave's hair off his forehead. "You would look so pretty," he whines, pouting.

Dave's shades are on the endtable next to the couch, so you can see the dubious expression in his red eyes. "Uh? No?"

You lean over to Karkat, who's trying to contain his laughter, and whisper, "Is this entertaining or awkward for you? Or like, both?"

"Both," he snickers quietly. Then, he straightens up and puts his legs over your lap, ignoring your friendly glare. "Gotta say, Strider, seeing you in a skirt would make my goddamn day."

"Shut up, Vantas," Dave mutters, blushing. John laughs, and you smile contentedly. You love your friends.

"Yeah, Dave, seeing you in a skirt would be _prit-_ tee nice," you comment, and Dave throws a pillow at you, growling something to John that sounds suspiciously like "...putting ideas in my head, asshole..."

"Heh, oh my god; look at this," Karkat says suddenly. He shows you his phone screen.

"It's a lizard," you say cautiously.

"What impeccable observation skills you have, Captor; you must be awarded some kind of prize," Karkat says sarcastically.

"It's a lizard getting its belly scratched."

"That is the embodiment of hilarity; don't look at me like that! Shut up." He whacks you, and John immediately crows, "I want to see!"

"This is malarkey, and I refuse to stand for it--ow, Egbert, you're _crushing me--"_

"You guys are all nerds," you snort, laying back on the sofa.

"Agreed," Dave says, his words slightly muffled by John's torso. "Egbert, move."

"Awww," John croons. "That's cute!"

Karkat grins triumphantly at you. "See, fuckhead? I'm not wrong."

"Whatever, nerd."


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, so Dave already knows this story," you start.

Dave immediately snorts with laughter. "Oh my god, _no. Don't_ do this right now."

"It has to do with something Purple Fucker did in your history period today, right?" Karkat guesses. "Shit, this is gonna be awesome; hang on."

"Righto, KK. Hang on to your seat, because shit is gonna go _down."_

"I'm so not excited," John pipes up, from his place on the couch.

"You shouldn't be. Alright, so, picture me. I just made that guy jizz himself like twenty minutes earlier. People are staring at the bruise on his jaw and whispering, and he's hating it. I'm fuckin' livin' it up, lookin' at him knowingly and all that, when he gets up, suddenly, and says to the entire class, 'Sol here thinks he's funny. Personally, I don't see anythin' funny about being an awful lay.'"

Karkat explodes with laughter, slapping his knees.

"And then he just _left,"_ you exclaim, giggling a little yourself. "Got detention for two hours for 'causing a disturbance'."

 _"Gold._ Fucking _gold."_

"I think the school is mostly homophobic, though; like I think that was most of it." John said, wrinkling his nose. "Gross."

"Yeah, I know," Dave says, kissing John's temple. "But Bro and your Dad would probably sue if they did anything, and the school has a reputation to uphold, apparently."

"Dude, _Kankri_ would probably sue too."

"I know, dude. Jesus, he would have a goddamn field day with that shit."

After about forty-five minutes of video games, Dave speaks. "Hey, Captor."

"Yeah, man?"

"Are you gonna sleep with Purple Fucker again?"

"No way, dude," you respond, wrinkling your nose. Fuck, you died again. "Dammit John!"

"Heh! Suck it!" he pipes up.

"Anyway," you continue, "Nah. We said it'd never happen again."

He stares at you for a moment, and Karkat whoops triumphantly. "SUCK MY DICK, STRIDER. I'M DEFILING YOUR DEAD BODY."

"Don't be an asshole, Vantas," Dave says. His Spartan respawns, and he doesn't even turn around. He quirks an eyebrow at you. "You sure?"

"What?"

"Are you _sure_ you're not gonna sleep with that guy again?" he says casually.

"...Of course, dude."

He smiles knowingly. "Okay." He faces the screen once more, scoping and shooting Karkat's Spartan in the back of the head. "Boom."

"FUCK!"

The problem with not sleeping with Eridan Ampora again is that you kind of...

You kind of want to.

You shouldn't. You just made eye contact in the hallway, then stopped walking and turned around to face each other again, because he had That Look. He was giving you his Best Goddamn Bedroom Eyes in the middle of school. So! You obviously got off together, as was previously mentioned (in the first chapter of this fanfiction, to be exact). But lately, he's been a recurring theme in your thoughts. With his eyes, and his annoying way of talking, and that goddamn motherfucking scarf.

Oh god. You really want to sleep with him again.

Why does Dave always have to be right about everything? Too goddamn observant.

***

The next day, Purple Fucker corners you after history.

"Hey. Sol," he says, arms crossed over his chest. He looks moderately pissed off, as per usual, and his black painted fingernails are tapping against his biceps.

Jesus Christ, that could be eyeliner that he's wearing. You don't know what you'll do with this asshole.

Anyway, you don't know what he wants, or why he'd talk to you without asking to have sex with you. You have a mutual hatred thing going on. "Why are you talking to me?"

Now that you think about it, he could actually be asking to have sex with you. Which would be okay. More than okay, really. "Are we gonna fuck again?"

His eyebrows furrow, and he looks confused. "Uh. No."

"Worth asking," you say, fingering the straps on your shoulder bag. "So, why the fuck are you still talking to me?"

He seems to pink slightly and look a little uncomfortable, then his traditional sneer is back. "I thought maybe I should give you my number. In case you wanted to maybe sleep with me again."

You stop, confused. "Okay, but you just said we--"

"I meant not now; I'm going to be late," he sniffs, looking at you like you're something he scraped off the bottom of his purple Chucks.

"Oh. Sure, whatever," you say nonchalantly, trying to ignore the way your blood boils. He hands you a piece of paper with a phone number on it, and you nod curtly. He nods back, and struts off. Literally struts. Jesus, he doesn't own the place. Haughty as fuck.

You do _not,_ mark your fucking words, _do not_ stare at his ass as he makes his way to his next class.

He's wearing red skinny jeans today. What the fuck; red and purple don't work. That's not how any of this is supposed to work. He can still fucking pull it off. This is unfair.

A sharp pain stings at the back of your head, shaking you out of a feverish, quick imagine of the things you would do if granted the proper time and consent. "Wha?" you mumble, blinking behind your glasses.

Karkat flicks your nose and says gruffly, "Hurry up, asshole. We're gonna be late."

"That was completely unnecessary, KK."

"Sorry, don't give a fuck. Try again later."

***  
You're walking to John's house after school that day, and John is in the middle of a story.

"--and so then she's totally staring at my dick, right, and it's making me so uncomfortable? So I do the first thing that pops into my head!" John exclaims, clutching a Starbucks coffee. (He insisted on going, and you agreed because of Karkat's astounded, almost offended response. Dave bought sixteen cookie straws and refused to share any of them.)

"Oh, dear Jethsus," Karkat mumbles, rolling his eyes. It's his usual angry demeanor, but somehow made more hilarious because of his cookie straw-stuffed mouth. (He stole one. Dave stood up and was probably about to commit a federal offense before John pulled him down, still talking excitedly. Dave begrudgingly let it go. Your friends are weird.)

"John, what did you do?" you say tensely, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets. You're trying not to think about a certain purple-wearing shithead. Again. Gog, what _is_ it with you?

John smiles proudly, glasses sliding off his nose a little. "Dave happened to be a couple feet away, so I reached over, grabbed him, and--"

"No way," Karkat gapes, having swallowed what remained of his straw. "Vriska _fucking Serket_ was ogling your junk and you decided that the best fucking course of action was to ravish your asshole boyfriend _directly in front of her?"_

"At least I didn't rob another man of his cookie straws," Dave says, face completely neutral. "You are a theif, Vantas. A liar and a theif. I have no way to feed my family, for I am minus one cookie straw. You've sent an innocent group of people to an untimely death. May that forever rest on your unholy shoulders as you wither into dust, you asshole."

Karkat scoffs, raising a heavy eyebrow at him. "Oh, go shove a cactus in your dickhole. That's right, Strider. _Dickhole."_ Dave opens his mouth to fire back another witty retort, but Karkat holds up a hand. "Oh _no,_ you fucker, I'm not finished. I just told you to insert a prickly desert plant into the place where you jizz from. Did you catch the joke, Strider? You are a prick. You are such a prick, that you are, in fact, a cactus. The very same cactus that I told you to kindly shove up your pee-place. Later today; probably, anyway; I don't know what schedule you and Egbert operate on; sperm will attempt to come out of the aforementioned dickhole. Sperm is basically some of your DNA, which translates to you, but it will be blocked by an alternate universe version of you  _as it is coming out of you,_ thus creating a paradox which will cause Egbert to have no pleasure whatsoever. That doesn't really have anything to do with the whole paradox thing; it's just that seeing someone with a cactus in their asshole probably isn't pleasurable, especially when you're trying to put your mouth on said asshole. Did I say asshole? I mean dickhole." Karkat takes a huge breath. "Essentially, what I'm trying to say is: go _fuck_ yourself." He pants a little. "With a--"

"Cactus, yeah. I got that part. Nothing else, though," Dave responds, eyebrows furrowing. He looks as confused as you feel.

"ALSO, IN OTHER NEWS," Karkat yells, making you jump. "MY OLDER BROTHER IS DATING A GUY NAMED CRONUS AMPORA. SOUND FAMILIAR? IT SHOULD. HE'S PURPLE FUCKER'S OLDER BROTHER, AND HE IS A DISGRACE. WHO DECIDED THIS WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA."

"The writer," Dave says suddenly, eyebrows disappearing behind his shades.

"What?" John pipes up, tossing his empty cup into a nearby trash can.

"What? Nothing," he says quickly, kicking a rock in front of his bright red shoe.

...You're going to ignore that turn of events.

Anyways.

"So, this Cronus guy is also an asshole?" you ask Karkat, who nods vehemently.

"Very much so. He's like if you combined, like, a character from _Grease_ , and Dallas from _The Outsiders."_

"What, that book we had to read in eighth grade? How the hell do you remember that?" John asks, grabbing Dave's hand and swinging their arms as they walk.

"IT WAS A GOOD BOOK, OKAY, DO NOT JUDGE ME," Karkat bellows.

"Je _sus."_


End file.
